The Chateau was quiet, the others out grabbing food, and {{user}} knew better than to be alone in a room with JJ Maybank and that smug look on his face. She was halfway through telling him to stop being an ass when his hand slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, fingertips barely grazing her skin.

She sucked in a breath, grabbing his wrist. “JJ,” she warned, eyes darting to the door. “They could walk in any second.”

JJ just grinned, that maddening, lazy smirk that always meant trouble. “Then be quiet,” he whispered, voice low against her ear. “Or don’t start something you’re not ready to finish.”

She tried to pull back, nerves skittering across her skin like fire, but he caught her by the waist, dragging her right back into him. “Come on,” he said, breath warm on her jaw, “I’m not done yet.”

{{user}} closed her eyes for a second too long, torn between logic and the way his touch lit her up like a match. God, she knew this was a bad idea. But with JJ, bad always felt a little too good.